2010 (sequel/prequel to 2028), chapter 4
Billie Joe Armstrong sat on a plane somewhere over the Midwest. Next to him was a random reporter for a random magazine and behind him were his two best friends, Mike and Tre, both sound asleep and exhausted from a day of work, business and being Green Day. In fact, the only person near him who was awake, Billie Joe noticed, was the reporter who was currently fiddling around with an iPod and paging through an issue of Rolling Stone magazine, which was the magazine he worked for Billie now remembered. The man took off his iPod, put it into his jacket pocket, scratched his curly brown hair and turned a page of his magazine, flipping a few more and reaching the end. Billie watched as the man slumped against his seat and sighed.
"Don't sleep on planes?" Billie asked.
"No. You?"
"I have to. Just can't right now."
"Why?" asked the reporter curiously.
"This entire conversation is off the record, don't put it in the article," Billie clarified.
"Okay sure. Why can't you sleep?"
"My son."
The reporter raised and eyebrow, "What's wrong?"
"He's fifteen and I know he's a teenager and all that jazz, but he is being... just, so weird."
"If it helps, I've got a seventeen-year-old son, Jeff. He's been like that for a while. Don't worry, my other son Sam eventually grew out of it. It'll pass in time, just don't make a big deal out of it."
"I hope..." Billie muttered, "Oh god knows I hope."
***
But as days went by, Billie Joe found it hard to not make his son's behavior a big deal. He would fight with him over some of the stupidest things, a piece of bread, a seat on the couch, who went first when going out the door. But none of these fights compared to that fateful day in late January, early February, when Joey's grades for the marking period arrived.
It started out okay, with Joey locked up in his room as usual, Jake out for the day with some friends and Adrienne sitting on the couch watching some TV. Billie couldn't find anything to do so he decided to look for the mail and that he did. As he went outside, he smelled the winter air, fresh after the rain and hummed a song quietly, but no one was close enough to hear it but most say it was probably The Clash's Train in Vain. He stopped as he opened the mailbox and began to browse through the mail.
"Report cards are here," he said to his wife as he closed the door behind him.
"Oh great. Lemme see."
Billie reached for Jakob's envelope and looked at it. Other than a "Needs Improvement" for citizenship in Spanish, which was not surprising, Jakob's results were satisfactory. They were mostly B's, with the exception of an A+ in music and an A in English which were Jakob's two favorite subjects.
"Good, good," Adrienne muttered as she slit the envelope on Joey's. As she surveyed the paper, she gasped and reddened.
"Lemme see," Billie muttered and took the paper. He too became angry looking and furiously shouted, "Joey! Get your goddamn ass down here!"
"Why?" came the shout from Joey's room.
"Because I told you to," Billie shouted, then muttered, "Little fucker."
"Billie stop," Adrienne sighed.
But Billie Joe was to gone to care what she said. He took it back and walked up to his son who had just finished his decent down the stairs and was standing looking at his parents awkwardly.
"How do you explain this?" Billie waved the piece of paper in his son's face.
"Explain what?" Joey asked, leaning against the banister cockily.
"Oh, why you don't know? Let me read this aloud," Billie smiled with an arrogant expression on his famous face, "English: D, Math: C-, Science: D-, Music: D, PE: D-, Spanish: C, History: F+. Joseph Marciano Armstrong, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Well it's not like you did any better," Joey snorted.
Billie Joe stuttered and finally looked his son in the eye, "This is not about me. At least I had something going for me!"
"What? Smoking pot in a punk club with a bunch of burnouts and losers? Yeah dad, that was great for you!"
"You do NOT know how good you have it young man! Do you think I had any of this shit when I was your age?"
"At least you..." Joey had been about to say 'had a dad' but then he remembered that his dad's father was dead. Was that the same as his dad always being gone? No, he supposed, it wasn't. Joey at least knew his dad was alive and existent, but that was not so for his father.
Instead of saying that, Joey punched his father in the jaw, a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life. He muttered "I'll be back later," grabbed a jacket and left.
"Don't sleep on planes?" Billie asked.
"No. You?"
"I have to. Just can't right now."
"Why?" asked the reporter curiously.
"This entire conversation is off the record, don't put it in the article," Billie clarified.
"Okay sure. Why can't you sleep?"
"My son."
The reporter raised and eyebrow, "What's wrong?"
"He's fifteen and I know he's a teenager and all that jazz, but he is being... just, so weird."
"If it helps, I've got a seventeen-year-old son, Jeff. He's been like that for a while. Don't worry, my other son Sam eventually grew out of it. It'll pass in time, just don't make a big deal out of it."
"I hope..." Billie muttered, "Oh god knows I hope."
***
But as days went by, Billie Joe found it hard to not make his son's behavior a big deal. He would fight with him over some of the stupidest things, a piece of bread, a seat on the couch, who went first when going out the door. But none of these fights compared to that fateful day in late January, early February, when Joey's grades for the marking period arrived.
It started out okay, with Joey locked up in his room as usual, Jake out for the day with some friends and Adrienne sitting on the couch watching some TV. Billie couldn't find anything to do so he decided to look for the mail and that he did. As he went outside, he smelled the winter air, fresh after the rain and hummed a song quietly, but no one was close enough to hear it but most say it was probably The Clash's Train in Vain. He stopped as he opened the mailbox and began to browse through the mail.
"Report cards are here," he said to his wife as he closed the door behind him.
"Oh great. Lemme see."
Billie reached for Jakob's envelope and looked at it. Other than a "Needs Improvement" for citizenship in Spanish, which was not surprising, Jakob's results were satisfactory. They were mostly B's, with the exception of an A+ in music and an A in English which were Jakob's two favorite subjects.
"Good, good," Adrienne muttered as she slit the envelope on Joey's. As she surveyed the paper, she gasped and reddened.
"Lemme see," Billie muttered and took the paper. He too became angry looking and furiously shouted, "Joey! Get your goddamn ass down here!"
"Why?" came the shout from Joey's room.
"Because I told you to," Billie shouted, then muttered, "Little fucker."
"Billie stop," Adrienne sighed.
But Billie Joe was to gone to care what she said. He took it back and walked up to his son who had just finished his decent down the stairs and was standing looking at his parents awkwardly.
"How do you explain this?" Billie waved the piece of paper in his son's face.
"Explain what?" Joey asked, leaning against the banister cockily.
"Oh, why you don't know? Let me read this aloud," Billie smiled with an arrogant expression on his famous face, "English: D, Math: C-, Science: D-, Music: D, PE: D-, Spanish: C, History: F+. Joseph Marciano Armstrong, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Well it's not like you did any better," Joey snorted.
Billie Joe stuttered and finally looked his son in the eye, "This is not about me. At least I had something going for me!"
"What? Smoking pot in a punk club with a bunch of burnouts and losers? Yeah dad, that was great for you!"
"You do NOT know how good you have it young man! Do you think I had any of this shit when I was your age?"
"At least you..." Joey had been about to say 'had a dad' but then he remembered that his dad's father was dead. Was that the same as his dad always being gone? No, he supposed, it wasn't. Joey at least knew his dad was alive and existent, but that was not so for his father.
Instead of saying that, Joey punched his father in the jaw, a mistake he would regret for the rest of his life. He muttered "I'll be back later," grabbed a jacket and left.
